The limestone courtyard, sitting beneath the central clock tower fell still as if the air split.
A rhythmic stepping of leather shoes moved forward.
The left—
First,
Followed by the right.
Flickering fluorescent lamps provided light to the courtyard area, mixing in with the moon's illumination.
Arthur was—
Alone.
He kept walking forward, moving alongside the clock tower.
His scarlet holo-malntle—
Vibrated.
Resonating with something familiar.
A step—
Taken.
As his mind was overlaid.
An old—
Memory.
Played in his vision.
The churning of the mechanical city moved in exact rhythm around him as he walked about the first level of the city.
Two swords rested at his hips, held at the hilt by a single gear.
A young Arthur walked along the metal piped pathway, looking down towards the box in his hand.
A screen—
Appeared.
Pointing in the direction he was meant to go.
His left—
Continued.
Followed by his right.
Selena mentioned my next mission was over in this area.
Arthur looked around, watching the mechanical figures sort through broken parts and boxes.
Conveyor belts moved above the ground, transporting the parts to different areas.
His eyes—
Paused.
Looking at the stalled belt.
There.
A flashing message rested on the screen sitting above the operation panel to that belt.
Arthur moved the mechanical figure to the side, reading the screen.
His hand—
Twitched.
As he pressed the lock button.
It can't be…
He rushed towards the belt, sliding the tops of the different metal boxes off.
Arthur's breathing—
Slowed.
As he lifted the final one.
A young—
Boy.
Sat inside the filth.
His head—
Turned.
Facing his gaze towards him.
Their eyes—
Met.
Fading the memory from his view.
Arthur's stride paused as he stood beneath the balcony of the clock tower.
Another figure—
Approached.
Flickering with a violet light.
A gear—
Clicked.
Once.
…
Dark clouds shaded the flickering lights of the stars above the city as they rose from the courtyard around him.
The clocktower remained still, unticking with the passing of time.
Marco stood atop the balcony, resting his hand on the metal handle.
His violet holo-mantle—
Vibrated.
Resonating with something opposite.
He turned towards the door behind him, beginning his stride towards the exit.
The right—
Stepped.
Followed by the left.
Marco was—
Alone.
Walking down the still hallway.
Fluorescent lights clicked on at different intervals shining their flickering luminescence on the carpeted floor.
The carpet—
Pressed.
As his mind fogged with static.
An old—
Fragment.
Shifted across his vision.
The persistent ticking of the clocktower hands chimed in the desolate room as a younger Marco knelt in the center.
A single sword rested on the right side of his hip, held at the hilt by a single gear.
Another figure—
Stood.
Standing in the area before him.
Their hand—
Reached.
Pressing their finger onto his forehead.
Marco's body shook, feeling as if something was growing into his veins.
I wonder what he'll say.
The hand—
Lifted.
Removing the blue glow from the air before him.
Marco's head lifted, looking towards the empty pedestal before him.
The figure—
Waved.
Motioning for Marco to take his leave.
Marco's body—
Obeyed.
Standing to its feet.
His footsteps tapped along the smooth marble floor, exiting to the same hallway.
Marco rested his hand on his sword hilt.
His stride—
Paused.
As someone stood before him.
Marco's gaze remained forward, looking at the person before him.
"What do you—"
The man—
Turned.
Facing his back to him.
Marco's eyes—
Watched.
Their backs move away from them.
The memory—
Broke.
As he stepped out to the courtyard.
Marco began moving around the tower, walking beneath the balcony area.
His veins—
Flickered.
With a violet light.
That same man—
Stood.
Facing him.
A cold breeze flowed across the courtyard, picking up the coat ends of their mantles.
The scarlet—
Swayed.
Right.
The violet—
Swayed.
Left.
Arthur and Marco stood across from each other, tightening the grip on their swords.
Their two blades mirrored each other, pointing the tips to the ground.
The gears—
Clicked.
Once.
Arthur's gaze—
Softened.
As he looked at Marco.
He's still healthy.
Marco's gaze—
Sharpened.
As he glared at Arthur.
"Have you finally decided to return to where you belong?"
Arthur exhaled through his nose.
"My home is not here…and neither is yours."
Marco's eyebrows furrowed.
"That's where you're wrong. I was chosen to be here."
Arthur turned his palm up, motioning his hand towards him.
"You were forced."
Marco raised his hand, pointing his finger at Arthur.
"By you."
Arthur's shoulders—
Twitched.
As his eyes began to soften.
You truly—
He closed his eyes, fixing his scarlet tie.
"Is this what you really want?"
Marco adjusted his violet sash.
"It's already been decided long ago…"
His grip tightened around his sword.
"...after you abandoned your place at his side."
Arthur's grip tightened as he raised his sword.
"I chose a different path."
Marco smirked as he raised his sword mirroring Arthur's stance.
"Yet…we've still ended up at the same place."
The courtyard fell still as the two men held their sword stances.
Arthur's right foot slid forward.
His blade—
Matched.
Swinging straight down.
Marco's left foot slid forward.
His blade—
Copied.
Swinging straight up.
The metal collided in the center, ringing in the air around them.
Their weight shifted at the same intervals.
Arthur's torso twisted right, swinging the sword straight across.
Marcos's movement mirrored, twisting left as he swung his blade.
The blades—
Clashed.
Centered between the two.
Arthur's hand shook, holding the weight of the sword.
His scarlet line—
Connected.
To the violet.
A faint memory—
Surfaced.
Reminding him of a distant past.
The warm sun rested upon Arthur's shoulders as he stood in the training grounds of the central clock tower.
He wasn't—
Alone.
As another small figure was with him.
Arthur clasped a wooden sword in his hand, holding the same stance as before.
He was—
Teaching.
Watching the same move used from lower angles.
Marco dressed his arm down, pushing his blade along the edge of Arthur's
The violet line—
Reached.
Bleeding past the scarlet one.
A sharp—
Memory.
Invaded into his mind.
The cold night sky stretched in the horizon above, shining it's silver light on the training grounds below.
Marco was—
Alone.
Facing a lone target.
His grip—
Tightened.
As he swung with the same move.
The target slashed in half, dropping to the limestone ground.
His breathing steadied as he sheathed the sword, turning away from the target before him.
Their blades—
Separated.
As they both shifted their weight back.
Arthur burst forward, spinning the blade counterclockwise as the gear rapidly clicked.
Marco matched his speed, twirling the blade clockwise as the gear rapidly clicked.
Their swords—
Clashed.
Striking at mirrored intervals.
A constant flow of strikes reflected from before each of them as their movements continued, shifting the blade around their steady figures.
The metal—
Collided.
Never leaving the center between them.
Arthur's elbow—
Swung.
Striking at Marco's face.
Marco had—
Mirrored.
Intercepting with his own strike.
Their fists—
Dropped.
As they both sent a forward jab.
Knuckles glided over the tops of their arms as Arthur struck his right cheek.
Marco made contact with the left as they both twisted their fists breaking apart from each other.
His right—
Stepped.
Returning to the original stance.
Arthur had—
Copied.
Moving his left foot in the same manner.
Arthur's veins surged with a scarlet light, extending out from his mouth.
Marco's veins surged with a violet light, protruding towards his mouth.
Their lips—
Parted.
As the mantles swayed in unison.
Words—
Left.
At the same intervals.
Arthur's order felt heavy in the air around Marco.
"Halt."
Marco's command pressured the air around Arthur.
"Kneel."
Arthur's knee—
Twitched.
Bending slightly towards the ground.
His torso—
Upright.
Staying in the same position.
Marco's arms—
Tensed.
As they began to lower.
His body—
Paused.
Moving slower than before.
The gears along the handles of their blades ticked once as the influence was even between them.
Arthur's posture recovered as his knee went straight, readying his stance once more.
Marco's arms returned at the ready, pointing the tip of his sword at him.
Their words—
Dissipated.
No longer reaching each other.
Marco's eyes—
Narrowed.
As Arthur's jaw tightened.
The two began circling each other moving in opposite directions.
Their grips—
Clenched.
As they both burst towards each other.
Their clash continued as if they were fighting their own reflections.
A vertical swing—
Upward.
As another intercepted from below.
The deep black edges continued colliding in the center, never crossing to the other side.
Horizontal slashes were met by their mirrored versions.
Their gears—
Clicked.
In unison with one another.
The blades whirled around their hands, clashing in the center from all different angles.
Metal chipped metal as their stalemate kept on, having their mantles sway with their movements.
Arthur's advances—
Controlled.
Like a steady stream.
Marco's maneuvers—
Sharp.
Like a raging tide.
Warm memories echoed across Arthur's mind with each passing sword swing.
A young boy performed the same moves, using a wooden training sword.
His swig—
Changed.
Into the cold steel.
His vision—
Watched.
Both versions of Marco.
Cold fragments infested Marco's mind with each clash of metal.
A lone figure practiced the same moves, hitting a still target.
His vision—
Watched.
The absence of Arthur.
A final—
Separation.
Arthur shifted back, raising the edge of his blade at Marco.
Marco paralleled, pointing the tip of the sword back.
They both—
Exhaled.
With the same timing.
The air—
Paused.
As if time itself had stopped.
A final—
Warmth.
Crossed Arthur's mind.
The young Marco stood before him, underneath the yellow sun.
A bright—
Smile.
Rested along his lips.
Arthur had—
Taught.
The first move.
A final—
Shard.
Pierced Marco's mind.
He stood alone, draped in the darkness of a cold night.
A single—
Target.
Stood before him.
It had—
Received.
The first move.
The fluorescent lights of the courtyard flickered above them, shining off the smooth limestone ground.
Arthur's eyes—
Narrowed.
As Marco's jaw tightened.
Their legs—
Tensed.
Surging them towards each other.
The two blades crossed beyond the center between them, thrusting at the opponent.
Their points—
Reached.
Stabbing through the mix of fabric and flesh.
The chest—
Pierced.
As blood trickled down each edge.
Arthur's blood flowed down the right edge of the blade as Marco's flowed left.
Their knees—
Folded.
Slamming into the ground.
Marco's posture was straight for a brief moment before falling forward first.
Arthur soon matched, catching Marco's back with his left hand.
Their bodies—
Caught.
Holding each other up.
Arthur's body—
Hovered.
As Marco's leaned slightly lower.
The warmth—
Vanished.
As their bodies went cold.
The blade handles—
Crossed.
As the gears slotted within each other.
A quiet—
Smile.
Rested on Arthur's lips.